Erin go Bragh!
by cassiemortmain
Summary: Ireland forever! My collection of AU ficlets from the Bransons' life in Ireland - their marriage, their children, their work, and their experiences of life during the turbulent years of the 1920s and beyond, plus some little milestones from their lives at Downton Abbey. New chapter - Sybil and Tom catch a moment together during the Irish Civil War ...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's note_

My very first S/T fic! Story inspired by my wondering if Sybil and Tom ever had a honeymoon...

* * *

**Rock of the Seals**

The wind crashing into the shore sends her hair whipping across her face. Sybil laughs joyfully, struggling to stand up straight as they look out to sea. She and Tom have come for a few days' holiday in the West of Ireland and are staying in a cottage owned by one of Tom's cousins, just outside the village of Roundstone in Connemara. A few white clouds are racing across the sky and they can see the heads of some inquisitive grey seals bobbing up out of the grey-blue waters of the Atlantic Ocean.

"What a beautiful place this is, Tom. I never knew you had relatives over on the West Coast."

"We Bransons turn up in all kinds of surprising places, my darling. You've never really seen the wild, Gaelic part of Ireland before so I wanted to share it with you."

She tightens her arm in his. "I'm so pleased we were able to come. What'll we do while we're here?"

His blue eyes glint at her – "Well, there are lots of beautiful walks and we could go out to visit the Aran Islands if you like. I did have some more indoor activities in mind, though…. it is our honeymoon, after all!"

Sybil smiles and puts her arms up around her husband's neck to kiss him sweetly. "You know me so well, love… a bit of everything I fancy sounds perfect! Maybe we should start that part of our trip right now… I think I need a lie down after our long train ride and all this fresh air…"

* * *

_A/N_ - I may come back to this one for the next part of their honeymoon one day... :)


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's note_

Story inspired by a beautiful song -

_"It feels like nothing matters  
In our private universe  
And it's a pleasure that I have known  
And it's a treasure that I have gained…_

_It's a tight squeeze but I won't let go  
Love is on the table and the dinner's cold"_

* * *

**Private universe**

A flurry of snow has just become more serious when Tom headed home from work after a crazy day running all over town for a story. "Wish I had brought my thicker scarf", he thought as he pulled his coat collar more tightly around his neck and starting walking through the Dublin evening. He finally rounded the corner of their street after twenty minutes' hard slog against the freezing wind, feeling the slush pour into his shoes with every step. He looked up and saw a light ahead – a light in their window – and felt a surge of strength propel him the last few steps to their front door…

Sybil was exhausted after a long day at the hospital as she got onto the crowded bus. Her pregnancy was just starting to show but no-one got up to offer her a seat and she had to do her best to balance herself as the bus lurched its way through the evening traffic. "What can I make for our dinner tonight?" she wondered – she still wasn't very confident in the kitchen, but she always liked to try and make them both something hot to eat if she got home first. Once she got to their flat, she managed to burn a saucepan making the mashed potatoes but she finally had something ready. She closed her eyes and felt the baby kick – she needed to sit down, just for a minute…..

Tom shoved his way through the door and threw his overcoat over a chair. He looked around for Sybil and found her asleep on the couch, with the dinner made and ready to dish up. His heart nearly burst with love, looking at her and knowing she was his. At moments like this, after nearly a year of marriage, he could really appreciate the treasure he had gained in his life with Sybil and the fact that she had made dinner for them when she was so tired herself made him feel like the luckiest man in Dublin that night. He walked over to her and leaned down to touch her face – "Sybil, love?"

Sybil jolted out of sleep and smiled to see him. She reached out to put her arms around his neck and pulled him down to her for a loving kiss. Somehow, as often happened with them, the kiss became something more quite quickly and Tom found himself rolling down onto the couch with her as he nuzzled into her neck and heard her sigh with pleasure as the day fell away from both of them. Sybil began pulling at the buttons on his shirt, and as she looked into his blue eyes she saw the same desire she felt. They both knew what was coming …. and they forgot all about the dinner.

* * *

_A/N_

Song credit - "Private Universe" by the wonderful NZ band Crowded House. Check the song out on youtube.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's note_

Story inspired by this post from the Imagine your OTP blog on Tumblr:

_Imagine your OTP sleeping in bed together, and Person A wakes up first. Person B is usually the one who wakes up first and makes them breakfast but Person A decides to give Person B a break and goes downstairs to make breakfast themselves._

Originally published to mark St Patrick's Day.

* * *

**Breakfast in bed**

Sunlight slanted into their bedroom, hitting their bed with a shaft of gold. Sybil stirred and slowly opened her eyes. She rolled over and looked at her husband who was still sound asleep - Tom's eyes were flickering under his eyelids and she wondered what he was dreaming about. Getting out of bed, and heading towards their little kitchen, Sybil lit the gas on the stove and set the kettle boiling…

They had only been married for a few weeks, and Sybil still couldn't quite believe she was waking up in their little flat in Dublin, rather than in the sumptuous but smothering surrounds of Downton Abbey. Somewhere she could be entirely herself, and not what someone else told her she should be. Somewhere she could give herself completely to the man who had been her best friend for years and who had recently become so much more - her husband, her lover, her guide. Somewhere they could share a life which was so unfamiliar but already so full of purpose, with her new job at the Rotunda Maternity Hospital teaching her more every day than she had learnt in her life until then.

As the kettle started to boil, Sybil put some slices of bread under the little grill and reached to the back of the cupboard to get down the raspberry jam. Soon she had everything ready - she'd made her very first breakfast in bed for them, another little milestone in their life together.

Tom was just starting to wake up as she came back, and he smiled at Sybil as she came in - "Morning, beautiful girl" - and watched her set the tray down on the bed. With her unruly curls falling over her shoulder as she buttered his toast, she looked much more delicious to him than anything else could be just then. He remembered their loving the night before, after they'd met some friends for a couple of St Patrick's Day drinks - the way that Sybil's hair had fallen across them both as she kissed him, how she had cried out his name as her pleasure overwhelmed her. With those images still in his mind, the cheeky grin he knew his wife couldn't resist came onto his face. "Sybil, darling - do you know what I would really like for breakfast?"


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's note_

My contribution to the Rock the Easter AU prompt on Tumblr!

* * *

**Bells are ringing**

"Where are we headed, Tom?" "You'll see - it's a surprise." His mischievous grin let her know that she would like the surprise, whatever it was. Having arrived in Dublin only a few days before, Sybil was really enjoying getting to know the city. Doing so with Tom at her side was an extra thrill, as she was seeing his beloved hometown through his eyes.

They had just celebrated Easter Sunday Mass at the Pro-Cathedral with the Bransons, their first real family occasion. As they came out, Tom had told his mother they had a special errand to run, and had whisked Sybil down the steps and along O'Connell St towards the river.

Sybil was struck by the clamour as they approached the Ha'penny Bridge hand in hand. Crossing the Liffey, she could hear all the church bells of Dublin ringing out to celebrate the biggest day of the year in this extremely religious city. She stopped to look at Tom and the joy in his face was so intense, she couldn't help but lean in to kiss him.

Tom still couldn't quite believe they were there. After all those years of patient waiting, Sybil had finally agreed to come with him to Dublin and start their lives together. Today marked a milestone on the start of that journey, although Sybil didn't know it yet. He responded eagerly to her kiss, pulling her close into him and attracting a few catcalls from passing boys on bikes, but he didn't care. He wanted to show the world - "Look, she chose me!"

They broke apart, slightly breathless, and Sybil looked around as they approached the south side of the bridge. "Not far now, love," Tom encouraged her as they turned into the laneways behind Grafton St. She saw they were headed towards a beautiful old stone church - Tom headed confidently around the back and knocked on a wooden door.

"Father Flynn? It's me, Tom Branson. How are you?"

"Tommy Branson? It's wonderful to see you, my boy - it's been a long time. How are you?"

"Couldn't be better, Father - couldn't be better. Father, I would like to introduce my fiancée, Sybil Crawley - Sybil, this is Father Flynn, a good friend of our family."

Sybil shook hands with a charming, white haired old priest who smiled benevolently at her. "Tom, I hope you know what a lucky man you are, to have won the heart of such a beautiful young lady. What can I do for you today?"

"Well Father, I wanted to talk to you about calling the banns for Sybil and me - we want to get married at St Teresa's, if you'll have us."

"Come inside, come inside my boy - we'd love to have you! Let's fill in a form and get you started. When were you thinking of getting married?"

Tom looked at Sybil, suddenly a bit hesitant - "We thought in about a month's time, right?" She nodded - "A month's time - yes, that's right." Looking into Tom's eyes, the love she saw there brought tears welling up. He gently wiped them from her cheeks and smiled at her. Now, and always, he knew how lucky he was.


	5. Chapter 5

_Author's note_

My contribution to the Rock the AU with Babies S/T challenge!

* * *

**How did I get my name, Da?**

Tom Branson was unlacing his shoes when his son came to stand in front of him, looking very serious as he put his hand on his father's knee. "How did I get my name, Da? At school today, Mrs Flanagan was asking us all how we got our names, and I didn't know the answer. How did you and Ma know what I was called?"

Tom looked up and met Sybil's eyes - silently sharing memories of that very eventful day in their lives. Sybil came to sit on the arm of Tom's chair and put her arm around his shoulder, and Tom reached up to pull her face down to his for a kiss. Oh yes, they remembered….

* * *

"Have you heard?" The news made its way from house to house that summer afternoon in Dublin. Mrs O'Connor came upstairs and knocked on the door of the Bransons' flat to tell them and found Sybil making her daughter a snack after her nap.

"Ah Mrs Branson – I wanted to let you know – I just heard, Michael Collins has been killed down in Cork. I know your husband is politically inclined so I thought you would be interested."

Sybil sat down and thought about what this would mean for the country she called home now. She felt sad for the loss of such a young, passionate man who loved his country so much he had lost his life trying to help her win freedom. She could still remember the electricity in the crowd when she and Tom had gone to hear him speak a couple of years before, just after the events of Bloody Sunday.

Suddenly, she felt a shafting pain through her back and realised that she was going into labour. How could this happen today - she wasn't due for another couple of weeks at least? And where was Tom? Her daughter toddled over to her and started to cry when she saw the look of pain on her mother's face. Sybil picked her up, along with a small bag, and headed downstairs - "Mrs O'Connor? Can you take Aislín - I need to get to the hospital?"

* * *

Tom Branson came out of his office to find the streets crowded with people. He asked a passerby - "What's happening?" The man looked at him in amazement - "You haven't heard? They killed the Big Fella, down in Cork. Word just came in a couple of hours ago. They finally caught 'the man they couldn't catch'- what a tragedy he was caught by one of his own."

Tom couldn't believe it. Michael Collins was a similar age to himself, and Tom really admired him for what he had done for Ireland. His brother Finbarr, a hard line Republican, had turned against Collins after the signing of the Anglo Irish Treaty the previous year, claiming it did not go far enough. Tom however was more of a realist and recognised that while the treaty didn't give Ireland all of what she wanted, it had started the process towards full self government for his homeland at last. He realised Collins had been right when he said that in signing the treaty he had signed his own death warrant.

He only knew one thing - he had to get home to Sybil and tell her about this - anything important in his life wasn't quite real to him any more until he and his wife had talked about it. He pushed his way through the rapidly growing crowds to their building, and ran up the stairs shouting her name. Mrs O'Connor came out on the landing - "There you are, young man. If you are looking for your wife, it's too late - I took her to the hospital myself, about an hour ago - I've got your daughter here with me. Where have you been?"

Tom was already out the door - "Oh God, please let her be all right, Oh God, I will do anything as long as she and the baby are all right…" were the only thoughts in his mind as he ran. Luckily, the hospital was only a few blocks away, and he slammed through the door and ran up to the admissions desk - "Maternity?"

* * *

"Push, push now Mrs Branson - you are almost there! One more big push - should be easy now!"

Sybil grimaced and focused all her strength, one last time. She couldn't help thinking - "If it's so fecking easy, why don't you try doing it?" The baby's head finally came out and the rest followed quickly - she had done it!

"Well done Mrs Branson, a beautiful baby boy! We'll just take him to wash him and wrap him up - won't be long." Sybil lay back, exhausted, as the midwife helped her get more comfortable and covered her with a fresh blanket. All she wanted now was to see her husband and feel his arms around her. Where was he?

The nurse came back in, holding a white-wrapped bundle - "Here he is, Mrs Branson. Mr Branson is outside too - shall I let him in?" "YES!" Sybil almost screamed as she took the baby, and the nurse looked at her disapprovingly as she opened the door behind her. Tom came bursting in - "Oh Sybil, love - are you all right? Is the baby all right?" He ran over to her and took her hand, almost sobbing in relief to see that they were both fine.

Sybil put her hand to her husband's cheek - "Look, Tom - we have a son!" Tom looked down at the baby in his wife's arms and then looked back at her with an expression of wonder in his eyes as he leaned in to kiss her. "What shall we call him?" They answered the question in unison - "Michael" - and nodded, realising that they had both already heard that day's sad news.

"That's a lovely choice for the baby - naming him after the archangel," fussed the nurse - "Mr Branson - you are not allowed to get onto the bed! Please sit down in the chair!" Tom ignored her - holding his beloved wife and baby in his arms, he pressed a kiss into Sybil's hair, whispering, "Oh my darling, I do love you so much."

* * *

_A/N -_

Sorry (not sorry) for stealing that last line - I love it so much!


	6. Chapter 6

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.

With this story, I wanted to explore a bit more the impact of the Easter Rising on Sybil and Tom, based on what happened in episode 2x03.

* * *

**Easter Rising**

_1916_

"Colm – where are you going?"

"Don't worry Mam – I'm only headed down the street to see what's going on – I'll be fine."

Colm Branson stuck his head out of the door – all seemed to be reasonably quiet. They weren't that far from the Four Courts in their corner of Dublin, and even at 16 he knew to keep his head down when trouble flared in this restless city.

He turned into North King St. A few blocks down, he saw some British soldiers rampaging their way down the street, breaking into houses. He heard gunfire and the keening cry of a woman and realised with a shock that something was very wrong. Jimmy Burke from next door came running towards him – "For feck's sake Colm, get out of here!" Colm hesitated as Jimmy bolted past him, and turned to see a soldier levelling his gun at him – "Oi, rebel scum!" The last thing he sensed was the report of a rifle, a blinding pain in his chest, and then nothing.

Jimmy, horrified, kept running – it was more than his life was worth to help his friend now. "Mrs Branson – come quick, come quick!"

The soldier meanwhile was turning Colm's body over with the toe of his boot, unmoved when he saw the boy's face, frozen in an expression of terror. "Probably a rebel, right Sarge? Even if he wasn't, I don't care – these bastards deserve everything they get."

_1917_

Tom Branson read the letter with a mix of relief, fear and anger. What was a mitral valve prolapse when it was at home? He pulled the car around to the front of the house, and started to polish it.

Sybil came towards him – she looked tired after a full shift at the hospital, and he longed to take her in his arms to reassure her that things would be OK while knowing that he couldn't, that he didn't have that right. He told her about being rejected from the army – "I suppose you're glad." Sybil was glad and told him so, but something about the way she said it, and the expression on her face, made him remark that if he couldn't get them one way, he'd get them another.

"Why do you have to be so angry all the time? I know we weren't exactly at our best in Ireland." Somehow, coming today, from her, this made him snap. He told her angrily about Colm and how he had been killed by a soldier just because he was probably a rebel. Sybil didn't get the chance to answer him, as Lord Grantham emerged from the front door just then, and she could see the angry expression still on Tom's face as he drove away. He felt himself fuming as he steered the car down the driveway. Somehow, whatever it took, he would get back at them for what had happened.

_1919_

"See those holes? Those were left by bullets during the Easter Rising." Tom and Sybil were walking hand in hand through Dublin – he loved to show her around his hometown and point out locations that meant something, to him or to his country. Sybil's expression softened at this, and he saw a tear in the corner of her eye. "Tom, was this where your cousin was killed?" They had never spoken of it again after that day two years ago, but what had happened had made a deep impression on Sybil, not only because it was the first time Tom had been angry with her.

Tom saw her distress and pulled her into his arms, looking into her face – "Love, are you remembering that day? I never told you why I got so upset with you, did I?" Sybil shook her head – "I thought it was because I hadn't been very sensitive about the British in Ireland, and it reminded you of your cousin."

Tom frowned – "Yes, that was part of it. Colm was just a young boy, shot for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Do you know what it was really about, though? I had wanted to be called up and then take a stand, to show you I was serious about what I said – I really would have gone to prison rather than fight in that war. When I didn't get the chance, I took my anger about that out on you. Then there was that mad incident with the General – God knows what would have happened if Mr Carson hadn't stopped me! Is it too late to say sorry for the way I behaved that day?"

Sybil looked into his eyes as she touched his cheek and kissed him lovingly. "Tom, it's OK – what matters to me is that we are here in Ireland, starting a life together at last. We will disagree about things sometimes – life would get a bit boring if we didn't! – but we are in this together now, and always. Will you take me to meet your aunt sometime? I'd love to hear what happened back then."

Her words sounded to him like an echo from the future of the wedding vows they would be making in a few days' time, and Tom was too moved to speak. He pulled Sybil tightly into his arms, burying his face in her neck and closing his eyes as he breathed her in. Nothing, not even the freedom of his homeland, mattered more to him than his love for the girl he was holding in his arms. Somehow, whatever it took, he would prove himself worthy of her.

* * *

_A/N_ - This story tries to put the death of Tom's cousin (fictionalised here) into the context of a real historical incident during the Easter Rising of 1916. 15 civilians were killed by British soldiers of the South Staffordshire Regiment on North King Street, not far from the heart of the action at the Four Courts building, allegedly to take revenge for the comrades they had lost in an assault on a nearby rebel position.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited the collection so far! I love to hear from you. Also, since alerts were not working the weekend I published the previous story of this collection (on the Easter Rising), you might want to go back a chapter to check it out if you missed it.**  
**

My contribution to the Rock the First Date AU S/T challenge on Tumblr!

* * *

**Such stuff as dreams are made on**

Sybil set off from Mrs Branson's house in the early evening, nervous and excited as she headed through the crowds towards the city centre. She was on her way to meet Tom after he finished work, for a very special reason….

Tom had suggested it to her the night before, when they were sitting in the kitchen. Tom's mother was out visiting one of the many Branson cousins, so Sybil was snuggled on Tom's lap with his arms around her, resting her head on his shoulder as they talked about their days. He said – "Sybil, love – you know what we've never done so far? Been out together in the evening, alone. Now that we are engaged, I think it would be perfectly proper for me to escort you out tomorrow night, don't you?" "Darling, I would love that! What should we do? Oh, I know – can we go to see a moving picture? I've never done that either, you know."

Tom smiled – "That sounds like a great idea. We can go to the Volta – it's quite central so we can go out afterwards if we want to." Sybil smiled – "I'm looking forward to it already. Maybe we can see one with Mary Pickford – she is so glamorous!" He put his finger under her chin and tipped her face up to his for a kiss, quickly followed by another, then he winked at her and ran his thumb gently along her bottom lip – "She can't hold a candle to you, beautiful girl. I can't wait to get you out there and show you off!"

The following evening, Sybil found her way to Mary St, and saw Tom waiting outside the cinema for her – "Hello, sweetheart, you look gorgeous. You're in luck – they're showing the new Mary Pickford picture tonight just for you." Sybil took Tom's arm and they made their way inside, where a uniformed usher showed them to their seats – in fact, their seat, because there was no armrest between them. Tom sat down and looked expectantly at his bride to be, and Sybil, feeling rather daring, didn't hesitate to sit down beside him. As the light came down, Sybil could feel Tom's arm tightening around her shoulders, and she realised that there was more than one reason to see a moving picture – the blessed privacy afforded by sitting in a dark room with strangers meant that she and Tom could sit together, with his arms around her, and no-one would know or care.

As they headed out of the cinema, Tom suggested they stop for a drink at Mulligan's before going home. "It's only just on the other side of the Liffey, and it's a great spot – I'd like you to see it." Sybil was always excited to learn more about Dublin and she had never been to a pub before either ("Quite an evening of firsts!" she thought), so she eagerly agreed, and took Tom's hand as they walked towards the river through the darkening streets of her new hometown.

Once they arrived at Mulligan's, Tom led Sybil inside and found a table for them in a quiet corner niche. He headed to the bar, getting them each a generous glass of Jameson's. Although Sybil had been used to drinking wine with dinner for some years, whiskey was new to her and halfway down her second glass she found herself with a pleasant feeling of lightness, as well as an overwhelming attraction for her handsome companion.

Biting her lip seductively, she got up and pushed Tom to the back of the wooden bench, sitting on his lap as she did so. Although she had done the same thing the night before at home, the fact that they were in a public place tonight gave her an extra frisson of excitement that intoxicated her even more than the whiskey. "Well Mr Branson, how are you enjoying our first date?" Tom didn't answer immediately – instead, he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, "It's getting better all the time, milady."

Sybil put her arms around Tom's neck and pulled his face to hers for a kiss. Tom responded with ardour to match her own and the kiss quickly deepened. As the passion Sybil had already learnt was never far below the surface between them rose up like a flame, Tom's hand ran up and down her back, burying itself in the simple braids twisted at the back of her head. Before long, they were utterly lost in each other, oblivious to the world around them, until –

"Branson, is that you?" A man in a tweed jacket was looking quizzically at them and Tom looked a little flustered as Sybil scrambled off his lap. "Sybil, I'd like to introduce you to my editor, Kevin Flaherty. Mr Flaherty, this is my fiancée, Sybil Crawley." Sybil flushed – what bad luck to get caught by Tom's boss! It wasn't as unlikely a coincidence as all that, in fact. If only Tom had thought about it, he would have remembered that Mulligan's was one of the main haunts for writers and journalists in Dublin after hours. Although he knew he'd face some serious ribbing at the office the next day, he didn't care at all – those minutes with Sybil in his arms had been worth it, as far as he was concerned. He could already guess what he would be dreaming about that night…

* * *

_A/N_ - Tip of the hat to William Shakespeare for the title of this story, of course! Thanks also to two fellow S/T authors – to the Irish Chauffeur, whose story "Home is Where the Heart is" was where I first read about the Volta, which was Dublin's first dedicated cinema, and to the Yankee Countess, whose story "A Birthday Treat" gave me the idea for the pub scene!

A couple of historical points: I have taken a bit of artistic licence here – at the time this story is set, this cinema, which was set up by James Joyce, showed only short programmes, and there weren't any lovers' seats there! Mulligan's is still one of Dublin's historic pubs – James Joyce was also known to have a pint there on occasion, and some of his characters in _Dubliners_ stopped in there too.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I love to hear from you.**  
**

This story was inspired by a beautiful picture sent to me by my friend angiemagz - check out her blog on Tumblr to find it - of Sybil and Tom on a beach. This picture brought me back to their honeymoon for this story, which I first wrote about in chapter 1 of this collection ...

* * *

**On the beach  
**

Sybil and Tom walked along the beach, hand in hand against the cloudy sky. The weather was calm, and small waves were striking the sandy shore as a warm sea breeze caressed their faces.

They had been married a couple of days before, and had come for their honeymoon to the west coast of Ireland. Tom still had to pinch himself to prove he was not dreaming - Sybil was really his wife! He wanted to do everything he could to make her happy, as he had promised he would at York all those years ago. That promise meant even more to him today than it had then, now that Sybil had taken that leap of faith, giving all of herself to him.

He could not take his eyes off her that morning. The lovelight in her eyes gave her face an almost incandescent glow, and her long hair hung unbound down her back as a symbol of how free she felt being here with him, as far as she could be from Downton Abbey and her life before. He longed to run his hands through it, get tangled up in it… memories from earlier that morning flooded into his mind, making him smile…

Before that day, Sybil had thought she had never been happier in her life than she had been on their wedding day. Making her vows to Tom, promising to love and honour him, to be true to him always, and hearing him do the same, had moved her to tears. Somehow, if it were possible, she was even happier now – it had really happened, she was really Mrs Branson! And of course, they had now discovered something together that she had only dreamed about before they were married. Sybil blushed, remembering what she and Tom had been up to just a few hours before…"Tom?"

"Yes, my love?"

"Do you remember what we did earlier today…?" She tailed off, not quite sure how to put her thoughts into words. She was still learning the language of love with him, particularly when it came to talking about their intimate moments together. Tom knew this, and loved her even more for it. He tried to make it easy for her:

"Yes, of course I do – being with you like that is more wonderful than my dreams could ever have been, darling."

"I wondered – well, do people ever do that, are they ever together like that… outside?" Sybil blushed again at her own daring.

Tom couldn't help but laugh – her beautiful innocence, coupled with her ardent desire to experience more of that side of their life together, made for an irresistible combination.

"Yes, my love, they do. This beach for example – I can see a comfortable spot just over there. Shall we go and have a look?"

Sybil looked down, too shy to answer, but her nod and her radiant smile told him all he needed to know. He started walking back from the beach behind the sea grass, leading her to a little sheltered nook in the dunes, which he had marked in his mind earlier, just in case.

Tom spread Sybil's shawl on the sand and gently laid her down on it, stretching himself out beside her. Leaning over to look into her eyes, he ran his thumb along her bottom lip - "Well, Mrs Branson, is this what you had in mind?" By way of reply, Sybil put her hand on the back of her husband's neck, pulling him down to her in a kiss that quickly deepened. It wasn't long before their ecstatic cries floated into the western sky, with only the circling seabirds to hear them…

* * *

_A/N_ - yes, keeping this collection T-rated - although I may do a one off M one day. :)


	9. Chapter 9

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.**  
**

This story was inspired by a photoset posted by my friend the Yankee Countess (to whom this story is dedicated) on Tumblr of Tom in his livery, which got me thinking about how Sybil might have felt about him when he was wearing it. I wanted to find a home for it, and decided to add it into this collection, as a story from Sybil and Tom's courtship at Downton Abbey and their journey towards their life together in Ireland.

* * *

**Senses working overtime**

It was the little wordless moments with Tom that had started to provoke these thoughts, thoughts Sybil had never had before. The smell of wet wool after a rain shower in the close air of the car, the creak of his leather boots as he changed gears, the cut of his dark green jacket which emphasised his strong shoulders, the tang of engine oil on her tongue as she found another excuse to go and visit him in the garage….

"Lady Sybil – are you ready for me to dress you for dinner yet?"

"Anna, is that you? Sorry, I was off in a dream. Yes, I'm quite ready thank you. How are you this evening?"

They fell easily into the friendly chat that was the hallmark of their relationship. As Anna helped Sybil into her new evening gown and twisted up her long, thick plaits behind her head, Sybil felt herself thinking about the journey she had just taken to Ripon. Tom had been wearing his winter driving gloves as the day was chilly, and it was surprising what kinds of thoughts she had found popping into her head as she watched him. Now, sitting at the mirror, she imagined how she might feel if he touched her while wearing them…

"Stop it Sybil!" she mentally admonished herself. Lifting her head and blazing out a confident smile, she thanked Anna and headed out the door, down to the dining room. She found herself drifting off again and again over dinner – more than once, someone had to repeat themselves before she realised they were speaking to her, and somehow her chair felt really hard and she kept shifting in her seat. Finally, Robert snapped irritably – "Sybil, what's gotten into you tonight? You're madder than a March hare. Sit still, for goodness' sake!" Sybil blushed, dropping her head, and did her best to avoid attention for the rest of the evening.

Finally the time came for the ladies to withdraw, and Sybil approached Cora – "Mama," she murmured, "Do you mind if I go up to my room? I'm not feeling quite the thing." Cora's face was full of concern – "Of course, darling – do you want me to call Dr Clarkson?" "Oh no, Mama, that won't be necessary. I think I just need to lie down for a while."

Sybil headed upstairs slowly, waiting for her mother to go into the drawing room, and then, almost without realising it, her feet set a course for the front door. Dodging past Carson who was doing his evening rounds of the house to ensure everything was as it should be, she found herself in the cold evening air as she headed around the back of the house, towards the garage.

The light was on – she knew that Tom sometimes liked to work late on engine maintenance and repairs at a time when the family didn't often need a car. She knew she should not do this, but somehow she couldn't stop herself. Pushing through the heavy garage door, she looked around – "Hello?"

She heard a noise and Tom emerged from under the Renault, a smear of oil across his forehead. "Lady Sybil? It's quite late – is everything all right?" Sybil looked at him as if seeing him for the first time. He had taken his jacket off and his shirtsleeves were rolled up, showing off his muscular forearms. His fair hair was tousled and his eyes looked dark blue, almost black in the dim light. As he bent over to put down his wrench, Sybil couldn't help noticing the way that his breeches stretched tightly across his arse in a way that was quite mesmerising. She almost wanted to drop her handkerchief, just to see him do that again…

Tom stood across from her, his arms folded across his chest and with an unreadable smile on his face. He and Sybil had been getting closer over the last several months, particularly since the incident of the count at Ripon where she had stood up for him, but he could not remember ever seeing her look at him quite like this before. It was almost as if… could it be? Was Sybil Crawley looking at him, Tom Branson, not just as the family chauffeur but as a man, and a man she found attractive? He found the thought very exciting and it made his heart race.

Both of them knew they should break the silence, bring this meeting onto some kind of normal plane – Sybil could order the car for tomorrow and call him "Branson", or Tom could offer an opinion about the latest goings on of the Pankhursts, but somehow, once their eyes met and locked, neither could think of anything to say. They were tongue tied – some kind of Rubicon had been crossed between them recently and it had taken until tonight for them to become aware of it.

Without speaking, Sybil found herself moving towards Tom. She knew that she had to be the one to take the next, fateful step – much as she was coming to understand that Tom longed to be closer to her, she also knew that the protocols of correct behaviour between a chauffeur and his daughter's employer meant that he would never break that invisible, impermeable barrier between them unless she invited him to.

They were within arm's length of each other now, and Sybil could not resist reaching up and touching Tom's cheek. The look in his eyes called out to her very soul – how could she not have realised this until now! For the first time, she used his name – "Tom? Say something, won't you?" At her words, Tom could stand it no more. He reached out to Sybil and gently, hesitantly, put his hand on her waist. His touch burned through the thin fabric of her dress, and she could not move away from him, even though she knew she should.

She looked at him, starry eyed, biting her lip, and Tom was irresistibly reminded of his Catholic childhood, going to Mass at St Teresa's. The altar had had a picture behind it of the saint in holy rapture, just like Sybil's face at that moment. Somehow he knew – just one more touch, and there would be no stopping the passion between them….

"Mr Branson, are you there?"

Tom's hand dropped – covered in confusion, he stepped back from Sybil. Thomas came into the garage - his dark, saturnine face clearly showed he knew there was something going on of which his Lordship would not approve, and he carefully stashed this knowledge away for later in case it was needed. "Lady Sybil, is everything all right?"

Sybil flushed and kicked herself – if only she could learn to dissemble a bit more, like her sister Mary! "Thank you Thomas, yes I was just visiting Branson to …" – she hesitated – what could she say? Tom dived in to fill the gap – "Lady Sybil was just dropping in to see if she had left her gloves in the car earlier. That was it, wasn't it, milady?" "Yes, thank you Branson, that was it. Anyway, do keep an eye out for them, won't you?" It was clear to both of them that Thomas would not be leaving without Sybil, and as they looked at each other, both could see disappointment that what had flared so unexpectedly to life between them could go no further that night.

"Are you ready, milady?" Thomas walked to the garage door, looking over his shoulder to say – "His Lordship needs the car at eight tomorrow morning – he's taking the early London train." "Thank you, Thomas," responded Tom, unable to tear his eyes away from Sybil as she walked unwillingly to the door. She turned back to him and said "Thank you Branson, and good evening." "Good evening, Lady Sybil" – and sweet dreams, he added silently. He already knew he would get no sleep that night… and wondered if she would…


	10. Chapter 10

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.

This S/T drabble is my version of a missing moment from season 2. It was inspired by a lovely Tom Branson post on Tumblr created by repmet, and also by a conversation I had with babageneush about it. Thank you both again! I decided I wanted to find a home for it here in this collection - another little milestone along the way to Sybil and Tom's life together in Ireland.

* * *

**Yearning**

"Jaysus, it's cold!" Tom Branson hunched his shoulders against the chilly night air as he headed home. He had just finished his last drive of a long and exhausting day, dropping the Dowager Countess back to the Dower House. And he hadn't seen Sybil all day …

Lady Sybil Crawley - his mind began to follow a well worn track as he thought about her. Ever since he'd arrived at Downton Abbey, he had known she was someone special, different from every girl he had ever met, with her kindness, her thoughtful opinions on the world around her and her interest in the big issues of the day such as women's rights. Thanks to his passion for Irish independence and for confronting the inequality he saw between the classes (as a working class boy who grew up in Dublin, he understood both causes first hand) they had enjoyed some lively discussions over the last few years.

And then there was the count at Ripon - he remembered it with a shudder even now. He knew how close he had come to something terrible that day, but he had also discovered something wonderful - that he loved Sybil, had loved her almost from their first meeting. He wondered if she felt the same way about him - she came to visit him in the garage often to talk about all kinds of things, and she had held his hand at the garden party just before the War…

He felt a hand touch his shoulder as he reached his front door - who was it? He turned around - "Good evening, Mr Branson. Mr Carson sent me - Lady Sybil needs the car tomorrow morning - she's going to York to start her nurse training course," William told him. "Of course, thank you - now get back inside man, it's cold out here!" "You're right there - good night," William called back as he ran towards his dinner, which was waiting for him on the kitchen table.

Tom had been ready for this but he hadn't realised it was happening so soon. Sybil - gone tomorrow, for months! How could he bear to be without her for so long? He opened his front door and stepped inside, allowing himself to dream for a minute of what it might be like if she were there waiting for him…

_She looked up from her chair by the fire, smiling her beautiful smile and stretching out her hand to him. Her long hair was pulled over her shoulder in an untidy braid and she was wearing the warm crimson cardigan he loved. "How was your day, my darling? You're home now - just relax and let me look after you for a bit." She kissed him lovingly, putting her hand to his cold cheek as he leaned down to her._

_Getting to her feet, she started bustling round, putting on the kettle and stirring the pot of stew on the stove for later, when he was ready to eat. She helped him take off his boots and jacket and gave him his cup of tea as he sat down. Then, carrying her own cup, she sat on his lap, settling her head on his chest as he put his arm around her, cuddling her close._

_This nightly ritual by the fireside was an essential part of their marriage that both of them looked forward to all day. Many times they talked long into the night, solving the problems of the world, sharing their hopes and dreams and planning for their future in equal measure …_

The beautiful vision faded as Tom looked around his dark and empty living room. Although his mind knew it had only been a dream, his heart and his arms ached for Sybil as if she had really been there, and the knowledge that she was leaving Downton Abbey the next day made him feel even more alone …

He sighed - "That's it - I have to say something to her! I might lose my chance forever if I don't. She could meet some handsome young officer at the hospital and that would be curtains for me." Tom started to think about what he wanted to say the next day when he dropped her off in York, and wondered … what would be her answer?


	11. Chapter 11

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.

This S/T ficlet was written to celebrate the birthday of the lovely and talented Piperholmes and it was inspired by a beautiful gifset of hers on Tumblr. Also, special thanks to the Yankee Countess for her inspiration.

It's set in an AU for ep 1.04 - what if Sybil and Tom had met before, when they were children? Once again, I decided I wanted to find a home for it here in this collection - one version of the very first milestone along the way to Sybil and Tom's life together in Ireland...

* * *

**I'd wait forever**

"Sybil, look up there! See that flash of white, by the rock?"

"Where - oh yes! I see - what is it, Tom?"

"It's a lamb - can you hear him calling for us? Let's go and get him."

He stretched out his hand to help her up the slope, and she took it as they clambered up to where the lost lamb was waiting for them. Tom picked him up, handing him to Sybil - "Here, you can carry him if you like."

Her eyes shone with excitement - "I'd love to!" Gently she took the precious bundle - she had never held a real, live creature in her arms before and she instantly fell in love with the wriggling little lamb. "Oh Tom, he's wonderful! Can I name him?"

"Of course."

"Mmmm - he looks like a Snowy - what do you think?"

"Let's carry him back to the farm - Snowy will be hungry, I'm sure."

She walked carefully down the slope, grinning widely - she never had this much fun at home! Ever since her family had arrived for a holiday at the home of Lord and Lady Oughterard in the west of Ireland, Sybil had longed for more than just playing dolls in the nursery. She craved the outdoors and wanted to explore the beautiful, wild landscape of Connemara, so she made a habit of escaping the house and its stifling routine as often as she could.

One day she had come across Tom, rounding up his grandfather's sheep with his dog, Seamus, and after that she managed to find her way to the farm nearly every day to see him. She realised that her family might object to their growing friendship and had tried to keep it a secret.

They approached the farm and he pointed her to a bale of hay - "Why don't you sit there, and I'll get him some milk." The food was quickly ready and as she tentatively pushed the bottle towards the lamb, she was thrilled when he lifted his head with an eager "baaa" and started to suck. She looked up, face alight - "Oh, Tom, look at him! I think he's going to be a big, strong sheep, don't you?"

After the lamb had finished feeding, Tom took him from Sybil to wrap him in a blanket. "He'll need to stay inside for a while, until he's strong again. Let him sleep now - I'll put him in the shed to keep him warm, and when you come tomorrow, you can check on him."

She walked out with him to the farm gate - "Well, see you tomorrow!" - and started running down the road towards the 'big house'. He looked after her - there was something about this girl, something that made him miss her when she was gone….

The next day, Sybil arrived, excited to see the lamb. Tom stopped her at the door of the shed, his eyes cast down. "Don't go in there, Sybil, please…" She wouldn't listen, pushing past him only to see the blanket thrown over the motionless body of the lamb.

"Is he asleep?" She crossed the floor and lifted the blanket. Tears started to flow down her cheeks when she realised the lamb she had helped to rescue was dead. "Oh Tom!" she wailed, and turned her heartbroken face towards him.

He couldn't bear her suffering and came towards her, hesitating a moment before putting his arms around her and resting his chin on the top of her head while he tried to comfort her. "There, there, Sybil, don't cry! You mustn't cry. The lamb was just too weak to survive but at least his last night was a happy one."

Sybil's sobs wracked her body for several minutes - this was her first encounter with death, let alone the death of a creature she loved, and the pain was overwhelming. She nestled closer into Tom's arms and let her tears flow freely - somehow, she knew that she was safe here, safer than she'd ever been in her life before.

Eventually, she lifted her face to him, her eyes still swimming. He felt her pain as if it were his own, so he leaned down and placed a kiss on her forehead, murmuring - "It'll be all right, I promise…"

Later that day, Sybil was coming back into the house through the door to the kitchen when her grandmother caught her - "Where have you been, child? You are absolutely filthy - look at your dress!"

Sybil hung her head - she knew that, once she told someone about it, the magical world she shared with Tom would be gone forever, so she tried to find a way to avoid answering the question. In the end, she murmured - "I've been on a farm, Grandmama."

"With that scruffy boy, I suppose? Don't think we haven't seen you sneaking away. You should know better, Sybil - you can't mix with your inferiors like that, it just isn't done."

"How can you say that, Grandmama? Tom isn't inferior to anyone - he's wonderful, the best friend I've ever had."

The Dowager Countess knew this spelled trouble, and resolved then and there to keep an eye on Sybil for the rest of the holiday - no more wild outdoor adventures for this rebellious young lady!

A few days later, the Crawleys headed home. Sybil was the last one into the carriage and she looked backwards, tears in her eyes - "I never even had the chance to say goodbye…"

* * *

_Eight years later_

"Sybil, are you ready? The car's waiting for you."

"Yes, Mama - I'm coming." Sybil hurried down the stairs and out the front door, excited to be planning her new frock and knowing what a sensation it would cause. She stopped dead as she caught sight of a face she wasn't expecting to see by the open door of the car. _Was it possible? Could it be…?_

She felt a light blush rising up her face as their eyes met. His were deep blue, like the high summer sky in Ireland - she hadn't seen those eyes since she was a child, but she hadn't forgotten them, could never have forgotten them as long as she lived.

Dropping her gaze, she took his hand and stepped into the car. The grasp of his strong fingers was warm even through his gloves …_ It has to be him!_

Tom held his breath as their eyes met again in the rear view mirror - _Does she remember me? _Seeing her again, even more beautiful than she had been as a girl, he felt his heart begin to race in his chest….

"Tom? Is it you?"

"Yes, it's me, milady."

"Oh please, call me Sybil - I hate that silly title. We're friends, aren't we?"

He looked at her again in the rear view mirror, a smile breaking across his face - "The best of friends, Sybil."

Her memories of that summer in Ireland came flooding back to her. The boy she remembered had become a man, and such a man! She felt a strange shiver travel up her spine, watching his strong shoulders move under his dark green jacket as he expertly manoeuvred the car along the road…

"So, Tom - how on earth did you end up at Downton Abbey? It seems like a long way from a Connemara sheep farm."

"Just good luck, I think, Sybil. Lord Oughterard was kind enough to offer me a position as an apprentice chauffeur to bridge the gap between when his man wanted to retire and when the son would be ready to take over. I had the chance to learn all about cars and driving, and I found I had a real aptitude for it."

"I always imagined you on the farm - what made you want to leave?"

_She always imagined me… _"Well, the farm is a smallholding, which means there really isn't enough of a living there for me and my brother. I was lucky something else came along, which I was good at."

"So that still doesn't tell me how you came here?"

"Good luck again! Your father happened to mention to his Lordship that he was looking for a new chauffeur, just when the new boy was ready to take over at home, so I was offered the position on his Lordship's recommendation."

"That is remarkable, I agree! And you do you find you enjoy being a chauffeur?"

"It's a pretty good way to make a living, for now. I won't always be a chauffeur - I intend to make something of myself."

"I'm sure you will, Tom," she smiled. _So he hadn't just turned out to be handsome, but smart and ambitious as well. That doesn't surprise me at all…_

"And so how about you, Sybil? Will you have your own way, do you think? With the frock?"

Their conversation flowed easily as Sybil spoke about her interest in women's rights, just as easily as it had in the old days. As they spoke, she remembered how he had comforted her the last time they had met and how safe he had made her feel in his arms then. Looking at him in the rear view mirror, catching his eyes and smiling, she felt that nothing had changed between them, even after all this time apart, and she found herself imagining what it would be like, getting to know him again…

As for Tom, he had known from the moment he saw her again that he loved her, a love that had its roots in their wonderful childhood friendship and which had slowly grown over the years to burst into full bloom now he was a man. As he sneaked a look through the window of Downton Abbey a few days later, watching her smile and pirouette in her wonderful new outfit - _never seen anything like it before, but trust her to come up with something like that! - _he couldn't help hoping that one day she might feel the same way about him. He was ready and willing to wait for her for as long as it took, working and striving every day to make her happy and prove himself worthy to win her precious woman's heart…


	12. Chapter 12

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.

This S/T ficlet was written as a thank you for, and dedicated to, our whole lovely fandom, particularly everyone on Tumblr who recently shared with me such lovely wishes, images and stories a couple of weeks ago when I celebrated my birthday. It was inspired by this post from the Imagine your OTP blog on Tumblr:

_"Imagine your OTP with a newborn baby. The baby wakes them up crying in the middle of the night. Person A says it's their turn to get up and for Person B to stay in bed. B can't fall back asleep and after a little while goes out to join A who is sitting on the couch giving the baby a bottle. A looks up, and they just smile at each other, because they're both exhausted but still so completely happy."_

* * *

**Close to my heart**

"WAHHHHHH, WAHHHH, WAHHHHH!" - Aislín's cry was getting louder, and Sybil and Tom could hear she was working herself up into a frenzy this time. She'd already been screaming for what felt like forever but was probably about five minutes - little hiccups kept interrupting her cry, but she wouldn't stop.

Sybil stuck her fists into her eyes and rubbed - this was the third time the baby had woken them that night and she almost wanted to burst into tears herself, she was so exhausted.

Tom looked at his wife - "Hey, lie back down love, I will go to her this time."

"But Tom, you've got work tomorrow - it's all right, I'll go… God I'm so tired, I can't think straight."

He could see that her lovely face was drawn with exhaustion, and put his arm around her shoulders to pull her in close, kissing the top of her head -

"Darling - let me go. I'll see if I can settle her - maybe she's hungry again."

She was too tired to argue and lay down on the bed to attempt to go back to sleep. Tom went over to Aislín's crib, under the window of their little bedroom, and picked her up, wrapping her in a blanket against the cool night air -

"Ah, now, a stóirín - what's got you all hot and bothered? Come here to Dadda …"

He rubbed his daughter's back gently to soothe her cries, carrying her out to the biggest room of their flat which served as kitchen, living and dining room and closing the bedroom door behind him to let Sybil rest. He knew there was a bottle ready on the windowsill so, holding the baby in one arm, he set a saucepan of water on the stove to boil, so he could heat it up for her.

_"In Dublin's fair city, Where the girls are so pretty, I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone…"_ He quietly crooned to his daughter as he warmed her milk, and she gradually started to calm down, letting out a few more little hiccups and gasps. She opened her big blue eyes, still swimming with tears, and looked up at her father with that unfocused gaze of a newborn that tore at his heartstrings every time he saw it. He still couldn't believe that he was a father, and seeing his little girl in his arms, so tiny, so helpless, so totally dependent on him for everything, made his heart almost explode with love.

Tom finished heating up his daughter's milk and took her over to the couch, settling her in his arms as she started to feed. She started suckling eagerly - "Oh so that's it - you were just hungry? There now, there now…." He stroked her head, already showing signs of Sybil's dark curls, and rocked her gently as she fed…._"Crying 'Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh'."_

Sybil couldn't go back to sleep, although she knew she needed to, as she had still not fully recovered from the trauma of her daughter's birth. Her baby's cry had awoken her maternal instinct and she knew she wouldn't rest until she had checked to be sure her daughter was well and happy. She got out of bed, put on her robe and quietly opened the door.

She saw Tom on the couch, totally absorbed as he finished feeding their little baby, who was quiet and happy now in her father's arms. Sybil was immediately swamped with love for the players in the scene before her - for Aislín, so precious that she would do anything in her power to keep her safe, and for Tom, already proving to be such a wonderful father to their child, as well as a more perfect husband than she could ever have dreamed. She felt tears forming in her eyes as she looked at them…

He looked up - "Sybil, look - she's calming down now. I think she was just hungry." He gestured, waving her over to them. She sat down next to him on the couch, snuggling under his other arm and taking the same comfort their daughter did from being in his embrace. Putting her hand on his as he cuddled their baby close, she laced their fingers together, so she couldn't easily tell whose were whose.

Tom looked at Sybil over their daughter's head, and leaned in for a kiss -

"What did we do, my darling, to be so lucky? I do love you both, so very much."

* * *

"a stóirín" = my little darling in Irish Gaelic, per Google translate.


	13. Chapter 13

_Author's note_

Thank you so much to everyone who has read/followed/reviewed/favourited this collection so far! I always love to hear from you.

This ficlet was written based on the inspiration of a beautiful picture of Sybil and Tom in Dublin, created by the lovely and talented buecherdieb, which you can see on my Tumblr blog - thank you so much for sharing your talent with us, my dear!

* * *

**Catching a moment**

"Tom, what a lovely surprise! I didn't expect to see you here." Sybil walked towards her husband, who was leaning on a lamp post outside the Rotunda waiting for her. She kissed him and he smiled, wrapping his arms around her waist -

"Mmm, I'll have another one of those, please." Tom pulled her close for a kiss that was long enough to attract catcalls from a passing tram.

"It's such a lovely evening, darling - I thought we might walk home the long way, spend a bit of time together after your shift before we pick up Aislín and Michael from my mother."

"What a perfect idea - we're always rushing around these days, it would be wonderful to stop and smell the roses. Who knows when we will get a day like this again?"

Hand in hand, the Bransons walked together through the centre of the city, sharing stories about their day.

"Sybil, did you hear - Dev has set up a Republican Cabinet - he's not giving in any time soon. I've to file a story on it this week."

"Oh, yes I did hear something - one of the doctors was talking about it. This fighting is showing no signs of stopping yet, is it?"

He shook his head, his face grim. "Since they killed the Big Fella, things have become much more bitter, it seems to me."

She remembered that tragedy only too well, as he did - their son had been born the same day the news reached Dublin a couple of months before, and he'd been named after the fallen leader.

"Want to go in?" They had reached St Stephen's Green and when she nodded, they turned through the gates. Looking around them, they could see that they weren't the only locals out enjoying the unexpected autumn sunshine and trying to take their minds off the war.

"What do you think, love?" He stopped walking, pointing at a photographer's booth - "We've not got many pictures of us yet, and I'd love one for my desk."

She squeezed his hand - "Oh yes, let's. I can send one home to my family."

The photographer quickly got set up - "Now, ready, please - stay still." They stared into the camera then, just as it flashed, Sybil's attention was distracted. She had to look away to stop herself laughing out loud as Tom's arm slid around her waist and she felt his fingers tickling her.

"Tom, you are awful - I'm sure you ruined our picture!"

She smiled at him and he knew she was only pretending to be angry as she gently brushed his fringe away from his face. They made arrangements to come back and pick up copies of the print when it was ready, and then made their way into the heart of the beautiful public space, beloved by all Dubliners.

"Want to sit down for a while, Sybil? You must be exhausted. How are you coping, being back at work? Are you sure it wasn't too soon?" He led the way to a bench and they sat down, her head resting on his shoulder as she nestled in under his encircling arm.

"I'm all right, Tom - I'm really happy to be back, I love working with the mothers and babies. We need to save money, too - I need to do a couple of shifts a week at least. We are so lucky to have your mother and sister to help us take care of the children - they are an absolute Godsend, I don't know what we'd do without them."

"I know, love, you are so right. In these times, more than ever, I'm so thankful for my family."

Sybil was silent for a moment, thinking about her own family, with whom she had been recently reconciled when Robert and Cora came over for a visit soon after Michael's birth. Tom knew his wife so well and, guessing what was on her mind, tipped her face up to his with a finger under her chin - "Would you like to take the children home to Downton Abbey for a visit, as your mother suggested?"

She shook her head and answered quickly - "No, sweetheart - this is where we belong, war or no war. You are my home now. I'm not going anywhere."

He tightened his arm around her, wiping away a tear from her cheek with his other hand - "A chuisle mo chroí…."

By way of answer, she leaned her forehead against his, then moved in closer to his body as he hugged her tightly. The shelter of their love left them, if only for a little while, oblivious to the troubled world turning around them. As long as they had each other, they could deal with anything that came their way.

* * *

_A/N - _

"A chuisle mo chroí" = pulse of my heart, in Irish Gaelic, per Google translate.

At the time this story is set, the Irish Civil War was in full swing - Sybil and Tom would recently have lived through the Battle of Dublin, a week of street battles in the capital that marked the beginning of the war. "Dev" is Éamon de Valera, while "The Big Fella" is Michael Collins - they fought on opposite sides of the Civil War after previously serving together in the First Dáil (Assembly of Ireland). Their disagreement sprang from their respective positions against and in favour of the Anglo-Irish Treaty signed in December 1921 that set up the Irish Free State and carved out Northern Ireland from the rest of the country. Collins (who was one of the Irish signatories to the Treaty) was ambushed and killed in Cork in August 1922 by anti-Treaty forces, while de Valera went on to fill many positions of political power in what became the Republic of Ireland, well into the 1960s.


End file.
